


One Step at a Time

by CravingCraze



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Comforting, M/M, NSFW, Panic Attacks, Pint of angst, Porn With Plot, Smut, Treebros, handjobs, helpless nerds, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27614693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CravingCraze/pseuds/CravingCraze
Summary: Evan loved stealing Connor’s flannel. Ever since they’d gotten together, he found himself wrapped in the confides of it, for many different situations.
Relationships: Evan Hansen & Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 107





	One Step at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> For some content; I noticed that alive Connor wore a flannel rather than the jacket when Evan imagines him, hence my decision to use that and not the black jacket.
> 
> With all that said, I hope you enjoy!

Evan  _ loved  _ stealing Connor’s flannel. Ever since they’d gotten together, he found himself wrapped in the confides of it, for many different situations.

The main reason was because he had low circulation, so he was pretty much freezing  _ all the time _ . It really sucked, because he could only afford thin jackets with hardly any warmth that’d reside inside it. Then again, it was up to the quality of just five dollars.

But when they’d first started hanging out, Connor was adamant on the flannel staying on, something Evan didn’t understand before, but now did, despite however hot the weather, and looking back, Evan could reason he probably noticed him shiver when a breeze that wasn’t even chilly hit his arms.

Thankfully, he had control over the thermostat and would almost be tempted to crank it up to eighty degrees, but figured Connor deserved to cool off, so he resisted the urge. Whenever he was alone, however, he wouldn’t hesitate to crank it up all the way. 

The first time he’d gotten the pleasure to wear The Sacred Flannel was during a panic attack. He remembers that there’d been a presentation that day, and Evan had to go up earlier than anticipated. It sucked, a lot, and he was one hundred percent sure he failed that assignment, which would knock him down a whole letter grade, which would affect his grades when he went into college, because his mom said they looked at grades mainly from senior year, and he’d be stuck at home like a ,deadbeat with nothing to live for, and he’d only make his mom’s life harder than it already was. 

Evan couldn’t leave the classroom, and was subjected to simply curling up in his seat as he tried not to cry and wheeze too loudly. 

The second the bell rang, Evan rushed to the bathroom near his chemistry classroom, at first not noticing how he forgot to walk with Connor.

No one used the bathroom during passing time, partially because it was disgusting but mainly to visit during class. For a brief moment, Evan considered using one of the stalls, but decided against it, at the odd chance someone would need it. It was ironic, risking humiliation just for the luxury of someone who probably wasn’t even coming in. 

He couldn’t stop the stream of tears that were rolling down his cheeks, and how his chest was heaving from the oncoming attack, and all he wanted to do was breathe. Why couldn’t he do that? It was a simple enough task that he could do without thought before, but now he had to constantly dwell on the fact that his breathing was screwed up and his heart was pounding out of his chest. He scrunched his hands together in a feeble attempt to ground himself in reality, resting them on top of his knees

Evan could barely register the door opening, and the clatter of combat boots hitting the tiles, as a familiar figure knelt beside him.

“Evan? Jesus Christ, okay, I have no idea what I’m doing. Bear with me,” Connor watched him taking frantic breaths, biting his lip. “Can I… is touch okay?”

He shook his head frantically. There was  _ no way  _ he could handle even a hand on his shoulder without another anxiety spike that would roll through his body. 

“Okay. Okay I can. I can work with that. Er. You’re shaking really hard, god,” Connor shrugged off his flannel, and dropped it into Evan’s lap. “Usually holding stuff helps me. Thought it’d do the same for you…”

Evan opened his eyes slightly and pulled the flannel closer, gripping it tight as he could feel soft fabric rub up against his thumb. It was weirdly soothing, like a comfort blanket. 

“Okay, now just breathe. In for four, hold for eight, out for four. I’ll count for you,” Connor held his hands up for him to watch. “Ready? Alright, in one, two, three, four…”

Evan followed Connor’s instructions as the heavy weight in his chest began to lift and his throat un-constrict itself, as his eyes slowly began to dry, resisting the urge to use Connor’s flannel as a towel or something, opting to pull his shirt sleeves down awkwardly to dry his eyes with. It was scratchy and uncomfortable, but it did the job alright. 

“No you need the Five Senses?” Connor asked slowly, watching him shake his head. “Okay. Do you need a minute?”

Evan nodded, looking down at the flannel and attempting to hand it back to Connor, who refused to take it back just yet, mainly because he was distracted grabbing handfuls of paper towels for his snotty nose (ew) and wet eyes. Which, they weren’t the best, and they didn’t give Evan that good of sensations, but it’d have to suffice for the time being. 

Connor carefully handed them over, and took Evan’s hand. “Feeling better?”

He would’ve appreciated another check in, because touch still was  _ not  _ okay for him just yet, and he squirmed, trying to get him to release him.

The other gasped and frowned, pulling his hand away. “Oh… Sorry. You’re usually fine by now…”

Evan let out a breath, giving him a week thumbs up. 

“You are fine? But you didn’t want to be touched,” Connor furrowed his brow.

Evan nodded his head, letting him piece the picture together. More often than not, he was nonverbal after an attack.

“Okay, so you’re fine, but you don’t want me to touch you..?” He asked hesitantly.

He grinned slightly, nodding again. 

“Cool. Got it. You need help getting up?” Connor offered his hand. 

With how Evan’s legs were practically jello at the moment, he figured he could handle a few seconds of contact, especially since he was initiating it. Carefully, he grabbed his hand, and stumbled slightly as Connor pulled him upwards. He grabbed the wall, watching Connor release his hand.

“If you need any help, just grab me, okay?” He started to walk slowly. “Chem isn’t that far, and you’ll be in a chair before you know it. Much better than the floor.”

While he doubted he’d need anymore help, the offer was still greatly appreciated, and with how empty the hallways were, he’d manage on his own. Still, he didn’t fail to notice the cautious glances Connor shared with him until he reached his seat. With the flannel still in his grasp, he decided rather than attracting attention to himself by putting it on, he’d wrap it around his waist, a sense of security easing his senses, as he faintly wished for its owners’ arms around him instead, while a strange thought was one he pushed to the back of his head, not wanting to acknowledge it. Evan noticed a few long strands, and opted to remove them gently, all the while distracting him from that day’s lesson. Oh well, he got to review it with Connor after school anyways, so Evan considered it a success. 

Another time was when they were visiting Autumn Smiles Apple Orchard. As the fuel from the sun began to slowly burn out, it brought a bone chilling rift of wind throughout the entire city. 

Okay, it wasn’t  _ that  _ bad. Just when Evan neglected to check the forecast, assuming it’d be a warm and bright day, like the days beforehand. He and his mom didn’t have cable, and most of the time he was too distracted to pull up the weather app on his phone. 

And it wasn’t like he couldn’t go back for a jacket. It was a Saturday afternoon, and they were taking Connor’s car to the orchard. But Evan considered it to be an inconvenience the second they rolled out of his driveway and onto the narrow streets of his neighborhood. He didn’t want to make him turn all the way around just for one, simple, and quite frankly unimportant object. Evan could handle a few chills, it wasn’t a big deal.

They made a stop at A La Mode, because according to Connor,  _ “Fuck normative fall customs, Ev. Ice cream is ice cream.” _ , which, he wasn’t complaining, except for the fact he wasn’t allowed to pay, but still gratefully accepted it, not wanting to seem unappreciative of the strawberry cone he’d received. He was grateful the cool air outside wouldn’t cause much harm to his treat, allowing him to take as much time as he pleased.

At the orchard, it took climbing a fence and Evan almost falling flat on his face to settle underneath a withering tree, it’s colors scattering in the long, old, overgrown grass. Connor was sitting so close to Evan his ankle was bumping against his leg, a copy of The Catcher In The Rye held in one hand, the other settled next to Evan’s, almost like he could lace it with his. It was as tempting as it was to sneak a photo of him, as Evan was snapping photos on his phone of the colors for his lockscreen. But the thought alone made him feel sort of stalkerish, and if he asked Connor for permission, he knew there wouldn’t be the same energy as in that moment. 

The only unpleasantly was the harsh, frequent breeze that sent blades of harsh cold rolling down his arms and into his chest, which Evan retaliated with rubbing his arms, attempting to gain friction. He let out a quiet, shuddering breath, drawing his legs closer to his chest to keep some body heat to himself.

“You’re shaking,” Connor tapped his leg, looking over at him.

“Hm? Oh it’s—“ Evan tried to will himself to stop, but his body wasn’t complying. He bit his lip and said, “I’m fine.”

“Why’re you shaking, Ev?” He persisted, placing a torn piece of paper in between his book’s pages, folding it shut. 

Maybe he’d leave it alone if he was just honest. After all, he was preventing them from having a good time with all his bullshit, the last thing Evan wanted was Connor worried about an imaginary panic attack. 

“It’s— just c-cold,” Evan shook his head at himself, before looking up at Connor.

“Oh. Here, it’s not bad for me,” Connor quickly removed his flannel for a second time, passing it to Evan. 

For a moment, he considered protesting the idea, knowing Connor didn’t like people staring at his scars, but he realized that he must’ve felt  _ comfortable  _ around him, otherwise he wouldn’t even be offering. That, or he was bending over backwards for Evan, and he was just being an asshole who was taking advantage of him.

Then again, Connor wasn’t shaking, which made him just a little reassured of his intentions. So, he wrapped the flannel around his frame, marveling at how loose and soft it was. “Uh, th-thank you.”

“ ‘course,” Connor hummed, leaning back as he stretched his arms, his shirt elevating just slightly, and the second Evan caught sight of a pale stomach he knew he was a goner. 

Which he really didn’t understand  _ why  _ his stomach was doing backflips, he never felt that way around Zoe (more so, just admiration and yearning to be more like her), so it couldn’t be a crush. Just because Connor Murphy is beautiful and absolutely ethereal didn’t mean anything, he’d already come to terms with being pansexual, but that didn’t mean he’d just  _ lung  _ at the first person he found attractive. 

Friends could find other friends hot, right?

Maybe Evan would’ve been fine, if it weren’t for Connor regathering his book, and scooting closer to him, leg to leg, while he felt awkward about it, Evan wouldn’t dare move. He found himself  _ adoring  _ the lack of space, which, friends cuddle, and that’s not gay. He wasn’t into Connor like that. He was his  _ best friend,  _ and that was all he ever planned to be.

Even if he thought about kissing him sometimes. 

Then he felt an arm wind around his shoulders, and Evan’s cheeks erupted with a bright blush, leaning back against Connor as much as possible as he tried not to freak out. 

“Figured you were still cold,” Connor murmured, flipping a page. “This okay?”

This, it was  _ so  _ much more than okay. Evan could feel boney hips again his own, as a hand squeezed his bicep gently to get his attention. How badly he just wanted to interlock them, or put his palm to the top of Connor’s knuckles, but it’d just induce a bad or nasty reaction from him, so he didn’t.

“Y-yeah, it’s good,” he looked up, realizing Connor’s head was tilted in his direction, and god, he shouldn’t be looking at his lips, even though he wants to kiss him so  _ badly _ . He teared his eyes away, face igniting with another flurry of red. 

“Just checking,” he commented, clearly not notificing how much of a mess he’d left him in. 

One last time he can remember, at least before Connor became aware of Evan’s flurry of emotions, was probably the simplest situation he found himself in. 

He has a bag packed with Connor’s clothes, just in case of emergencies, or, for a family argument gone  _ so so  _ wrong. It has a busted up iPhone charger, an old brush and toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, and a bottle filled with purple nail polish. Evan’s taken upon himself to add to it, throwing in half used notebooks, a couple of squeeze toys, and a Webkinz bulldog plush to hold.

Unfortunately, there  _ was  _ an emergency, but thankfully, it hadn’t gotten out of hand just yet. Connor was smart, he knew when he was about to blow up at people, so he’d just leave, ignoring the screaming coming from Larry or his sister. It took a lot of willpower not to yell back at them, but most of the time, he managed not to.

Just like any other time, there wasn’t any real warning. Just frantic knocking on the door, as Evan was perched in his living room, trying to find something decent to bide his time in. Normally, hearing a knock at the door would leave him in a panic, but he’d grown to realize that if he hadn’t ordered pizza or anything, there wasn’t any obligation to open it. It could be a little girl trying to sell Girl Scout cookies and he wouldn’t  _ need  _ to pay her mind. He was just one house.

But when Connor came over, he’d ring the doorbell and knock frantically, an odd combination Evan slowly memorized. 

When he opened it, Connor’s eyes were red, and already his flannel was soaked with water, the poor thing was shaking from either the cold or anger, Evan couldn’t really tell, but he stepped aside, silently inviting him in. 

It took a little while to coax Connor into giving up his flannel, but at the offer of an old Wolverine blanket, he threw it off, wrapping himself up in the small fabric. 

Evan knew all he could really do was wait it out before trying to talk to Connor. So, in the meantime, he threw the flannel in the dryer, mainly just wanting it to be dried off again for Connor to use. 

About an hour later, Connor was ready to talk, leaning into Evan’s side as he began to explain Larry had gotten on his case about smoking weed again. It wasn’t a big problem, as Connor wasn’t depending on it, only using it occasionally, but Larry was uneducated, thinking Connor had an addiction, and that he’d have to go back to rehab. That was what shook him up, because according to Connor, it wasn’t a fun place, and the volunteers were  _ extremely  _ overbearing, hovering over his every move, only allowing him to have a minimum amount of privacy to begin with. Maybe, if he was in a better mood, Evan would’ve told Connor to explain weed to Larry, and that it wasn’t that bad of a drug, especially considering it’s slowly starting to become used for medical usage, but all he could do was rub Connor’s arm and listen to him, for the time being.

When he was done, Evan put on Netflix, setting on Avatar: The Last Airbender, to help Connor calm down some more, with ridiculous antics, jokes, and engaging plot to help distract him. Connor had already begun to withdraw back into the Wolverine blanket, quietly gazing at the television with an expression Evan didn’t recognize. Sometimes he’d crack a smile at the show, and others he’d just stare blankly. 

They’d gotten through three whole episodes before Evan heard the dryer buzz and stop, signifying the load was done. He silently got up and opened it, gazing at the now dry black flannel.

He hadn’t meant to hold for so long, but it was just so  _ warm  _ and comforting and nice in his arms, not to mention the fabric carried Connor’s scent, a distinct smell of weed and charcoal lingering on it. Without really thinking, Evan pulled the flannel up to his nose, inhaling deeply, slipping it on, convincing himself he could wear it for just a few minutes.

What he didn’t take into consideration was Connor, who wandered his house when he got bored, and would look in the most random of places for something to do. Evan only knew about this because there’s been times he’s been woken up by Connor sitting on the washing machine, gazing outside the window, or him just staring inside his pantry, idling, and Evan briefly wondered if he ate when he was bored. 

Connor, who was lingering in the doorway, watching him with furrowed brows.

“C-Connor. What’re you doing here?” He scrambled to pull off the flannel, but it proved to be an issue with how he’d buttoned it up, and the fact he wasn’t overly keen on causing a tear in it.

He took slow steps inside the laundry room, tilting his head slightly. “You’re wearing my flannel.” He mumbled, almost tired like. 

“I’m— so s-sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Evan had managed to get it off, and tried to give it back to Connor, which, it took a few seconds of twisting around and twirling, but it slid off his arms with ease, and he awkwardly held it out to him.

Connor raised an eyebrow at the flannel, then at Evan. For a brief moment, he considered him to be mildly pissed at him, or disgusted, even. But all he could hear was him saying, “You looked cute in it.”

He felt like his brain had just stopped. Nothing in that moment made sense,  _ how  _ did he think Evan,  _ stealing his jacket  _ and wearing it, was cute? He’d bet Connor would call him a stalker or a freak, but he didn’t. He just… looked at him, with kind eyes, something he knew not many got to see, rather met with a stone cold glare, but he couldn’t wrap his head around  _ why _ . He should be getting yelled at, ridiculed, shamed, yet he was met with Connor’s silence, and suddenly, he was walking towards him.

“You’re scared,” he stated, drawing closer and closer to Evan. “What’re you scared of?” 

“You—you should be mad. But you  _ aren’t _ , I d-don’t get it… Why aren’t you mad..?” At this point, his back was against the wall, despite having a fair enough distance from Connor. He was  _ trying  _ to give him space, but well, with how he was basically cornered at this point, it hadn’t worked out too well. 

“But I’m not mad,” Connor stated, and oh, dear god, there was almost  _ no space _ left between them, nearly chest to chest, and Evan felt a hand grab his forearm, rubbing a soothing line into it. Even this small amount of contact made Evan melt in his touch, but it’s not like this cleared up any confusion. 

“W-Why aren’t you mad?” Evan repeated himself, half certain Connor simply forgot to answer him. 

Connor cocked his head to the side, furrowing his brow. “Is there supposed to be a reason I’m not?”

“ _ No _ — absolutely not, it’s just…” he let his words trail, eyes catching onto Connor’s lips, who’s which quirked upwards.

“What’re you looking at, Ev?” Connor teased, moving his hand up into his hair, and  _ holy fuck  _ did that feel nice.

Normally he would’ve shied away, but for once, his heart was pumping in a good way. Evan let himself lean into it this time, saying, “You…” 

“Me.  _ Why  _ me?” Jesus Christ, this just wasn’t fair, not in the slightest. Couldn’t he just be upfront with him? Although, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the ominous bullshit. 

“Cause… cause you’re, like…  _ really  _ pretty, and uh… I like looking at you. A lot,” Evan couldn’t really coordinate words that well in that moment, not when they were  _ fucking nose to nose _ .

Connor smiled down at him, glancing at his lips. “Evan. Can I… can I kiss you?”

Evan let out a breath and said, “ _ Yes _ ,” before having a warm pair of lips against his own, slowly drinking him all in. He could feel his self restraint lose as he grabbed onto Connor’s hips, and— okay, Connor just touched his ass, and it felt really nice. Were they already going to be this handsy? It wasn’t like Evan minded, he’d been  _ craving  _ it for longer than he could remember. He could feel himself behind pushed back into the washing machine, and the second load he started up was making his entire being tremble against Connor involuntarily, but it felt so  _ good _ , his teeth biting into his lips, gentle strokes of his sides, and Evan could only moan at all the sensations around him.

But of course, they had to pull away because they forgot how to breath for a minute there, but that didn’t stop Connor from leaving kisses on Evan’s neck, not hard enough to leave marks, but gentle enough as to leave Evan giggling softly, letting a hand tangle into his hair.

“Is this okay?” Connor whispered in his ear, taking a moment to pause and check in.

“This is— _ more  _ than fine, Jesus,” he smiled up at him. “But I—I’d rather be l-laying down…”

Quickly, Connor captured his lips in a kiss, keeping it brief but just as enjoyable as the last. “Then let’s go,” he said, starting to lead Evan back to his room.

He would’ve preferred being swept off his feet, but  _ whatever _ , not all of his sex fantasies were becoming a reality, he supposed. Still, it involved Connor, who wasn’t upset with him, and who’s flannel he still had in his grasp. He blinked at it, trying to offer it back to Connor.

“I wanna see you in it,” Connor shook his head, patting the bed. “You look good in it.”

Evan crawled over beside him, beginning to slide it back on, when he felt Connor’s hand grab him. 

“Not like  _ that _ . God, I’m weird about asking, sorry,” he ducked his head, moving his bangs out of his eyes. “I meant like. Without a shirt.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Evan felt a little tempted to, because if he didn’t, Connor wouldn’t be interested anymore, but something about the look he was giving him felt like a warning, like “don’t you dare do it if you’re uncomfortable, I swear to god”. 

“We can always just kiss and go back to our show,” he piped up. “It's gotta go both ways.”

At first, Evan felt very tempted to take Connor up on this offer, but there was a part inside of him that screamed not to, wanting more of  _ this _ .

So, he took off his shirt, and slid the flannel on. It wasn’t as bad as he anticipated. Sure, he was a bit scrawny, but so was Connor, who looked him up and down with a grin, before mirroring his actions.

“Your bed is so stupid tiny,” Connor remarked, climbing on top of Evan. “It’s homophobic.”

“Is it?” Evan asked innocently, moving hair out of Connor’s face. “Cause you’re on me now. That doesn’t seem all that homophobic. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Maybe,” he dragged a finger against Evan’s ribs, who gasped and arched upwards at the gentle touch. It moved and began to tease his nipples. “Wish we had just a  _ little  _ more space. Afraid I’ll fall.”

“You—won’t fall,” Evan giggled, peppering butterfly kisses onto Connor’s neck, occasionally using his teeth.

“ _ Mmh…  _ You sure about that?” Connor gasped softly, letting his hands travel lower. He stopped at his pants, “On or off?”

“On, please,” Evan blushed, knowing it’d make a mess down there, but he wasn’t ready to be nude with the guy he daydreamed about constantly, not yet at least.

He hummed, moving his hand lower. “It’s okay, we’ll take it one step at a time. Can I touch you?”

Evan was already arching into his hand, so he thought it was clear, but then again. Consent. It was sexy. “ _ Yes,  _ please, oh my god.”

Connor cupped him through his jeans, and  _ holy shit  _ it felt so different from when he did it himself. His hands were thinner and longer, and every twist from his wrist made Evan twitch and groan, and all he could do was grab Connor’s ass and squeeze it cause he couldn’t really figure out what Connor needed, not when he was red in the face, panting into Connor’s ear, rutting up against him.

“S-So pretty,” Connor praised, watching Evan squirm. He saw him sneak a hand underneath him, so Connor let him fondle him as he drove himself into his palm, letting out a small moan. He wasn’t sure what he liked more; rubbing Evan or feeling him squeeze his shaft and all. 

It didn’t take long for either of them to grow hot and sticky against one another. Evan moved Connor’s hand away for a moment, unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his boxers, as their restraint was growing more uncomfortable. Connor let him sit up and did the same, both sitting with a hip over the other as they stroked each other, pressing their foreheads together.

“Connor!  _ Fuck _ , you feel so good!” Evan could feel his cock right up against the other’s, and every time he’d flick his wrist, he could feel it rub up against his own in a heavenly way.

He didn’t respond, using his free hand to grab Evan’s hair and tug him into another kiss, and just  _ how  _ did Connor know he was into that? Was it from all the times he’d mess with it? Probably, because Connor has his hand locked around a couple of curly knots that are making him come apart at the seams. 

Soon enough, he could feel Connor’s legs shaking slightly, and Evan wasn’t far behind himself. He quickly pulled away, speeding up his hand as fast as possible. “C-Connor…. Is this—?”

Connor let out a gasp and a loud moan, “Holy  _ shit _ , that’s perfect!” He matched Evan’s speed, tugging his hair harder.

Feeling his last bit of self restraint leaving, he finally let himself cum, satisfied knowing he made Connor feel good. He kept moving his hand as his moan wracked through the room, and soon Connor’s voice joined his, and their thighs were incredibly sticky.

Evan couldn’t find it in him to care. He laid his head on Connor’s shoulder, panting softly. The flannel felt all too hot on him, but it was too comfortable to take off. “Hey, Connor..?”

“Mmmh?” He wrapped his arms around Evan, leaning forward to lay his chin on his head.

“What are we now?” He asked hesitantly. As good as the sex was, he wanted  _ more  _ than just that. 

Connor paused, fiddling with his flannel. “Can we be boyfriends?” He asked, fingers dancing down Evan’s sides.

He laughed, squirming in his arms. “I’d like that.”

“Cool. Me too. We probably should’ve asked before this,” he chuckled sheepishly.

“Whoops,” Evan grinned, pulling Connor down onto the mattress. His sheets could always get cleaned, and hopefully a shower together would be an option.

Evan thought it was needless to say that he got more than just a flannel that day. 


End file.
